


so far from who i was

by cnomad



Series: cnomad prompts [5]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Child Death, Episode: s04e05 Buck Begins, F/M, Gen, Introspection, Mentions of Child Cancer, POV Margaret Buckley, Parent-Child Relationship, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29535417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cnomad/pseuds/cnomad
Summary: The other mother's looked at Margaret—at her dyed hair and her crow’s feet—and assumed to know that Evan was unplanned.When in fact he was anything but. Evan was the most carefully considered decision that she and Phillip had ever made.
Relationships: Margaret Buckley/Phillip Buckley
Series: cnomad prompts [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1855642
Comments: 11
Kudos: 51





	so far from who i was

**Author's Note:**

> So....this kind of poured out of me last night? Not sure entirely where it came from, but here we go. This fic is set during an unspecified time in Buck's childhood and is told entirely from Margaret's POV as she contemplates her family, her decisions, and her memories. 
> 
> The title comes from the song [So Far](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pECQK8ImFeQ) by _Ólafur Arnalds_ (which is the song that played when the 118 came to rescue Buck in the fire).

There were moments.

Not all the time, not even often, but there were moments when Margaret could almost forget the ghosts at the heart of their family. There were times when they all sat down to dinner, when Evan regaled them with random facts from whatever he’d been reading that week and Maddie lit up while sharing a good grade she’d gotten on a biology test, that Margaret could convince herself that they were a happy family. A happy, healthy, normal American family with no dark secrets or hidden past. Just a set of parents and two kids: a boy and a girl.

But then she’ll be at a parent teacher association meeting—not because she was particularly interested in it, but because it was expected, it was _normal_ —and one of the other mother’s would place her hand on her pregnant belly and flash a grin, telling everyone how it was a surprise. And this woman would meet Margaret’s gaze and smile, broader, and say something along the lines of, “Well, I don’t need to tell you about that experience, do I?” and the other mom’s would laugh. Because Margaret was a good fifteen years older than these women, these mother’s with children Evan’s age who had all gotten pregnant in their 20s and 30s, and they looked at her—at her dyed hair and her crow’s feet—and assumed to know that Evan was unplanned.

When in fact he was anything but. Evan was the most carefully considered decision that she and Phillip had ever made.

And Margaret would give that mother a brittle smile, her teeth on edge as she laughed along with them all, never correcting them, never explaining the truth. She couldn’t force herself to say his name anymore—Daniel’s—but oh, how she ached for him in those moments. The way he always smelled of fresh cut grass after playing outside, how his knees were constantly scraped, the way his eyes would brighten when Maddie hugged him or Phillip tossed him in the air.

The way he’d been so very brave laying in that hospital bed, the IVs coming out of what seemed like his every vein, as the doctor’s and nurses poked and prodded him. How he’d refused to cry even when she knew he had to be in pain. How his chin would wobble and the tears would hover, never daring to fall.

Evan was like that too, sometimes.

Not quite the same. He was clumsy and reckless—constantly getting into scrapes and scuffles, his nose broken, his elbows bloody. But he never looked as scared. Never seemed on the verge of tears. He’d look up at her, a bruise beginning to form around his eye from where he’d been hit in the face with a softball (how he hadn’t broken his eye socket was beyond her), and his gaze looked wide with wonder. As though he couldn’t believe she was there.

She ached for him sometimes, too.

Sometimes in the dead of night she could feel her heart clench with certainty that she was doing wrong by him. She could feel the distance between herself and their children—where Maddie had once clung to her there was now a chasm of grief and guilt and shame. And Evan…

Margaret could remember, barely, her pregnancy with Evan. It felt like a fever dream to her. A whirlwind of doctor’s appointments—rarely hers—and late nights rubbing Daniel’s back as he emptied his stomach into the toilet. The countless pill bottles and doctor’s names. She couldn’t even recall if she’d struggled with morning sickness herself or not—she had with Daniel and Maddie, so she assumed she must have with Evan but she would never _know_ —but she could remember how she had wrapped her arms around her belly and prayed. Fervently. Endlessly. That he would be the answer to their prayers, that he could _save_ Daniel, save them all.

It had hurt so much when the doctor’s had told her that none of them were a match. Daniel was so little, so tiny, all she wanted to do was give him everything—her blood, her marrow, her entire being, she’d give it all away to keep him in this world. Phillip had felt the same, and Maddie too in her own child-like way. They had been desperate, at the very end of their rope, when the doctor had broached…the idea. A last ditch effort to grasp at something tangible that they could do.

They hadn’t said yes. Not immediately. Maybe, in hindsight, they’d agreed more readily, more quickly than the doctor planned for, but she and Phillip had gone home with the seed of the idea. A baby. Not a sure fire thing, but _something_. They’d talked it through the whole night—what would it mean? Could they do it? What would happen if it was all for nothing, if the baby wasn’t a match, if they couldn’t save Daniel anyway?

Phillip had sworn to her that they had love to give. She had sworn the same back to him. So they’d gone back to the doctor and set the appointments—she was 42 and impatient, fertility treatment seemed the only path to follow—and within a few months Evan was on the way. All while Daniel was in and out of the hospital and made friends with other children in the pediatric oncology ward (and oh, _oh_ how those friendships had broken Margaret too, the way the nurse’s would pull her aside some days to let her know one of Daniel’s friends had passed, how she had seen the other parents burst out of rooms with drawn curtains sobbing and she had _known_ what had happened and been terrified that she might one day know what that felt like too—and how it had been a hundred times worse than she could have ever imagined when it came to pass).

She had loved that baby in her belly fiercely. She could remember that. Could remember how she pinned all of her hopes and dreams on the possibility growing in her womb—another little boy. She and Phillip had chosen not to learn the gender when they were pregnant with Daniel and Maddie, but it was different with Evan. With Evan they wanted to know everything, needed to know it all. She knew it was a baby boy, and they chose the name Evan carefully. _God is gracious_ , the baby book said and Margaret prayed that the name would act as a talisman and guide their baby into the world just as they needed.

And then he was born. And he was perfect.

He was a _match_. 

For a brief, shining moment, they had been a happy family of five. After the doctor’s had rushed the umbilical cord blood to Daniel and his procedure was done, there was so much hope to be had. They gathered in Daniel’s room, Maddie sleepy in the hospital chair while Phillip perched on Daniel’s bed and helped him to hold baby Evan in his arms and Margaret had been full of so much love. All of it. She closed her eyes and she could see it, their future, how Daniel would love having a baby brother, how he and Maddie would tease Evan and play with him, how Phillip would bond with his boys and Margaret would commiserate with Maddie about their house of men, and it was so wonderful.

But so brief.

That time is lost to Margaret now, just as her pregnancy was, and she hates herself for it. Those last beautiful memories with Daniel, those months when he still could smile at her and laugh at Phillip’s jokes and play games with Maddie and tickle Evan’s belly. She wishes, desperately, that she could remember those moments. They must have been precious. They must have been beautiful.

But all Margaret can recall now is the doctor’s faces, one after the other, the endless papers and the tests and the x-rays, as they explained in their careful, professional voices how the cord blood wasn’t taking. Wasn’t doing what it was supposed to. How they looked at her with sad eyes and asked in a gentle hush if she and Phillip had made plans yet. How they could recommend a children’s hospice if she needed one. And then the days slipped into months until finally, a year after Evan was born, Daniel was gone.

Caskets shouldn’t be that small.

And Margaret couldn’t bear to look at her youngest child. Because she knew then that she and Phillip had been _wrong_. That they’d lied to each other that distant night when they said they had the love to spare, that they could weather any storm, even the darkest one. Because the moment had arrived and it had broken her in half and revealed to her that she was not strong or brave or loving or kind. She was weak, and her heart was too full of love for the child she had lost, and she had none left over for the children left behind.

She hated herself in those moments too. Hated Phillip just as much because even though he could fake it better than her, she knew he was just as broken, just as lost.

They decided together to move. They decided together to pack up Daniel’s belongings and donate it to the pediatric ward, where other children just like him could play with his toys and wear his clothes, where they wouldn’t have to witness it. They decided together to sit Maddie down and explain their decision. Their new secret.

Margaret told herself it was a kindness to Evan—that she didn’t want him to blame himself, that she didn’t want him to carry that burden, that stigma of being a savior baby (and oh, what a sham of a name _that_ was the first time she heard it, how it had made her blood boil and her stomach curdle, how she’d retched into the toilet just as Daniel had all those years ago and felt sick to her stomach to think of the term savior being attached to anything that had happened). But in her darkest, most honest moments, when she had nowhere to turn and no reason to lie and could allow herself the faint comfort of the truth, she knew it was because she didn’t want to ever have to confront it. That twisted feeling in her gut when she looked at Evan and didn’t see her blond haired, blue eyed, dazzling little boy, but saw another—darker hair, darker eyes, just as stunning and always, always, more beloved.

But there were moments. When she could pretend that she was a good mother. When she could lie to herself and act as though nothing were missing, or broken, or damned. She would smile at Evan and ask questions about volcanos or dinosaurs or stars, and she would smile at Phillip from across the table, and ignore the heavy weight of Maddie’s gaze on the side of her face, and she would pretend. 

Evan deserved those moments. She just wished she could give him more of them. It was the least she could do for all of her failures.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story feel free to follow me at [my tumblr](http://cinematicnomad.tumblr.com/) where I post way too much and sometimes fill fic prompts and make gifsets. Leave your thoughts in the comments below and thanks for reading!


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